


Tequila Night

by sabby1



Series: Station 69 AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs in a Car, Dirty Thoughts, Drunk Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, The Dove is Fine: Don't Worry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1
Summary: Fire Station AU where Hux is the shift supervisor and Ren has been secretly pining. Poe and Finn inadvertently force the issue by getting everyone out to the bar for tequila shots after their 24 hour shift. Things develop.





	Tequila Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the reason why there wasn't an update on Episode IX today. Somehow my mind latched onto the memory of tequila shots and why you only get salt and lime with the cheap stuff. Then a modern day biker Kylo Ren grumbled out some snarky line in my head and here we are.
> 
> PS: This also takes place in my favorite universe where two guys can make out in a sports bar without anyone batting an eyelid.
> 
> ###### 
> 
> ###### 

It’s the middle of summer, so of course it’s a hundred thousand degrees outside and everyone is sweating like pigs. Tempers flare up like clockwork every couple hours and the fact that it’s fire season has been keeping the team from getting more than four hours of sleep for almost three weeks. 

When their relief finally rolls into the station at a quarter to nine, Kylo Ren is ready to go home for a blissful 48 hours of unconsciousness. That is, until Poe Dameron claps a hand on his shoulder and steers him away from his bike.

“You’re not going home. It’s tequila night!” 

Ren looks down his nose at Dameron, trailing his gaze over the sweaty black curls, sweaty white T-shirt, and sweaty blue jeans.

“No.” 

“What do you mean, no?” Poe makes an offended noise in his throat. “We’ve been cooped up in here forever. It’s time to blow off some steam before somebody gets hurt.”

Ren furrows his brows. “And you think tequila is going to help with that?” He shakes his head and throws a glance over his shoulder at their shift supervisor. “Hux, back me up here?”

“Back you up on what?” 

Armitage Hux has a clipped way of speaking that would make him slide right into the role of a military leader, like a colonel or even a general. He carries himself that way, too, all straight back and broad shoulders with his chest puffed out. Not even the fact that he’s a carrot top takes away from the authority that bleeds out of his every pale pore.

“Nothing,” Poe says quickly.

Ren gives the shorter man a sharp look as he removes the clingy, sweaty hand from his shoulder.

“This knucklehead thinks it’s a good idea to mix excessive heat and lack of sleep with tequila.”

Hux raises one immaculately groomed brow. “Really?” 

Finn Seven chooses that moment to come out of the locker rooms. His dark skin is still damp from the shower, and he smells like Axe Kilo from across the room. 

“Hey, sorry about hogging the shower.” When he gets close to Poe, he stops and wrinkles his nose. “Really sorry. Man, you reek.” 

Poe makes a face right back. “So do you. What, did you bathe in the stuff?”

Ren rolls his eyes. Everyone knows those two have been screwing like bored rabbits. Their hook up is the worst kept secret at the station. 

His eyes are involuntarily drawn to Hux at the thought. 

Finn claps his hands down on Poe’s shoulders a little too hard. “Are we ready?” 

Ren plants his feet. “I don’t think so.” 

“Aw, come on, Ren, don’t be a spoilsport.” Poe wheedles, and Ren can feel Finn’s puppy eyes trying to work their magic on him. 

He can only feel them, because his own gaze has somehow glued itself to the pale blue eyes of their shift supervisor. 

“I’ll go if Hux goes.” 

No way is Hux ever going to agree to spend his precious time off with the lot of them. Hell will freeze over before-

“I’m driving.” 

Ren’s eyes widen and he can hear the sharp intake of breath from Finn and Poe.

The distinct curl of an arrogant smirk on Hux’s pale pink lips raises Ren’s hackles like an ice cube shoved down the back of his shirt. 

“All right,” he growls. “I just gotta know before we leave, are we gonna be drinking the cheap shit or the good shit tonight?” 

He cocks his head toward Poe, mostly to physically pry his gaze off Hux, and raises his brows.

“Does it matter?” Poe does some sort of shrug-handwave-headshake combo.

“It matters,” Ren says, “because for the cheap shit, all we need is a bucket.” His eyes move back to Hux. “For the good shit, we’re gonna need to bring bandages and condoms.” 

“What the fuck, man?” Finn bursts out laughing. “What the hell does that even mean?” 

Ren rolls his eyes at the kid’s ignorance. Finn is quick to jump to his own defense, though. 

“I mean, I think I get it. I’m just not sure I want to.” He makes a face. “But I personally vote for the cheap shit because my rent’s due next week.” 

Ren nods. He can live with that. 

“Very well,” says Hux and disappears into his office only long enough to grab his uniform jacket and hand off duty to Captain Phasma. 

When he comes back out, he has an old steel bucket swinging from his long, pale fingers.

“Nobody pukes in my car.” 

Hux drives a Lincoln Navigator, because of course he does. As far as Ren knows, the man has no family, so the only reason that comes to mind is that he wanted to be at the helm of a battleship and this was the closest he could get without joining the military.

It’s not a long drive to the First Order, a semi-decent bar that caters to bikers, pool sharks, and soccer fans. The bartender’s eyes light up when they walk in the door, and Ren almost laughs at the wolfish leer on her cute, freckled face. 

“What can I get you boys?” she asks in a vaguely British accent and leans over the counter, giving them a nice view of her pert boobs squished inside a tight white tank top. 

“Tequila!” Poe hollers and slams his hand on the counter, putting paid to any false ideas of suaveness. “The cheap shit.” 

Hux steps up to the bar, using Ren’s body as a shield between him and Poe, and smiles at the bartender in a way that makes Ren’s skin crawl.

“I prefer the good stuff myself,” he drawls as he hands over his credit card. “Just open a tab on this.” 

She nods and pours the first round. The good stuff for Hux, cheap shit for everyone else. She puts the salt shaker in front of Poe and sticks a slice of lime on each of the three shot glasses. Hux’s drink is served in a tumbler.

“Ponce,” Poe mutters under his breath before he goes back to his boisterous tones. “Bottoms up!” 

Ren’s eyes are glued to Hux as he licks the salt off the base of his thumb, downs his first shot, and sucks the lime between his teeth.

Hux rolls the deep amber liquid around the tumbler before he brings it to his lips and takes a sip. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, there is a strange gleam in the pale irises.

Ren suppresses the shiver that rolls through him and bangs his glass down on the counter.

“Another.” 

The bartender – call me Rey – refills their shot glasses and plops another round of limes down on top of them. 

Lick. Swallow. Suck. 

Next to him, Hux contemplates him over the rim of his tumbler. Takes another sip. Licks his bottom lip. 

Ren shakes his head and bangs the glass down again.

“Another.” 

Lick. Swallow. Suck. Shudder.

Someone bangs into him and Ren is more than ready to start a fight, but it’s just Poe trying to regain his balance by leaning on Ren’s back while Finn’s got his tongue shoved halfway down Poe’s throat.

Worst kept secret at the station.

Ren rolls his shoulders to get the sweaty weight off him and grumbles, “Get a fucking table.”

The two somehow manage to stay connected at the face as they stumble their way over to a booth in the corner. 

With a sigh of relief, Ren looks up at the bartender to order another shot and instead bursts out laughing at the disappointed look on her face. She’s even pouting a little bit, and that bottom lip looks so tempting, he wonders what she would do if he leaned over and sucked it between his teeth. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says between chuckles.

She shrugs and says, “I still have choices,” in a tone heavy with innuendo as she looks him over.

He almost wants to check if he’s still wearing his shirt. The offer’s not unwelcome, and he hasn’t even been drinking the good shit.

She’d probably be all limber and energetic, and it would be oh so easy to lift that feather weight and hold her up against a wall or brace her on the edge of a table, her skinny legs wrapped around his ass while they fucked. 

His dick definitely votes in favor of the idea. 

Hux clearing his throat sounds like a growl. 

“Another one for my friend,” he says, and, when Ren turns his head and raises his brows at the untouchable Armitage Hux using the word ‘friend’, Hux just looks back at him with that strange gleam in his eyes and adds, “The good stuff.” 

Ren shakes his head like a dog, trying to disperse the fog of bad judgment that is starting to settle over his brain. 

“All right,” he says, maybe slurs a little bit. 

He’s not sure if Hux is cruising for a fight or what, but he’s not going to turn down good tequila when someone else is paying for it.

The bartender cleans off the shot glasses and puts down a second tumbler a little too hard. Dark amber liquid sloshes around the round bottom of the glass as she mutters, “Could’ve said something,” with a much stronger, low-brow accent.

Ren is too slow to catch all of the look that passes between her and Hux, but it’s definitely not a nice one. In fact, it’s downright ugly.

He has a vision of the feisty little bartender vaulting over the counter, skinny legs clamping around Hux’s waist as she punches him right in his smug grin. Hux, of course, would pry her off like the hundred pounds wet she is and sit her ass down on the nearest barstool so hard she won’t get up for a week. Then they’d kiss like they’re trying to eat each other alive.

Ren shudders because his dick votes in favor of that, too.

He picks up his tumbler and raises it for a toast, mostly to make Hux stop glowering at the bartender. 

“Cheers,” he says as Hux raises his glass in turn. 

Ren downs the whole thing in one swift gulp while Hux finishes his drink with a final small sip. The taste of pure agaves washes over his tongue like raw honey and glides down his throat in a smooth trail all the way to his stomach where it settles like burning embers. 

Fuck if his dick doesn’t vote in favor of that, too, the agreeable little pisser.

Hux is glaring at him, and Ren feels something in his stomach flip. For a moment, he thinks he’s going to need that bucket, but it’s just his body warning him that Hux is grabbing the back of his neck and jerking him forward. 

He’s ready for it, spine stiff and shoulders braced for the violent head-butt, and then it hits with a hard, hungry mouth crushed against his lips and the taste of raw honey sliding into his mouth, pushed by an unrelenting tongue.

Wait, what?

Hux kisses like he gives orders: hard, fast, absolute. 

Ren barely has time to gulp in a breath between the first and the second, but that’s okay, because the command is the same. Fuck, now.

The bar kind of disappears, probably because they’re moving, and Ren somehow manages to not stumble over his own feet while Hux pushes him out the door.

The sweltering night air slams into him after the welcome chill of the air-conditioned bar and sweat breaks out all over his body. It feels like drowning in molasses, and Hux’s cool hand on his neck is the only relief. He wants those hands all over him.

There is a beep and a hollow pop, and then his ass hits the rim of the Navigator’s trunk. The third row seats are already stowed, and the second row folds at the push of a single button on the center console. He gets it now, why the Navigator. Lots of fucking space.

The hatchback clicks shut behind them, plunging them into darkness until Hux bangs the heel of his fist against one of the grab handles. A white LED panel lights up, enough to see what they’re doing but not enough to draw attention from beyond the dark tinted windows. 

“We didn’t bring any condoms,” Ren grumbles while Hux is busy sucking on his neck and unbuckling his belt.

Hux pulls back and gives him a haughty stare. “You didn’t.” 

Then he reaches over Ren’s shoulder into the storage compartment and pulls out an unopened box of Trojan lubricated condoms. 

Ren gapes. “You planned this.” 

Hux shrugs. “I prepared for the contingency.”

And damn if Ren’s dick doesn’t jump at the thought. He laughs at himself and pulls his shirt over his head to hide the fact that he feels like a dumbass for pining quietly for fucking months when all he had to do was get the man to come out for a few shots of tequila. One shot, really, because don’t think he didn’t notice that Hux only had one drink to his four.

“Fuck.” 

The word comes out on a hiss of breath, and Ren’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever heard Hux use profanity. The man is too tightly controlled to lose his temper on the job. He’s the kind of guy that doesn’t start fights, he finishes them. 

Now he’s staring at Ren’s naked chest like he wants to eat him, and that’s fucking hot. It’s just not as good as touching, so Ren grabs the center of his wrinkle free uniform shirt and pulls. 

Their mouths crash together, teeth clacking painfully, but that doesn’t matter because Hux’s tongue is back in his mouth and he’s helping Ren undo all those damn tiny buttons on the shirt. 

Ren barely glances at the starched white tank top underneath before he rips the whole lot over Hux’s head, crumples it up, and flings it into a corner. 

Hux pulls back and glares down his thin, straight nose at him. “Slob.”

“Whatever.” He buries his face against the pale chest, rubs his nose across the dusting of ginger hair and nips at a bright pink nipple. 

Hux makes a funny noise in his throat. Ren grins and yanks at the stiff uniform belt while he goes for the other nipple. 

Between them, they manage to open the belt and topple Hux onto his back as they shove the pants down to his thighs. Of course he wears pristine white boxer briefs, because nothing else would do for a proper stick in the mud like Hux. 

Ren chuckles against a thickly muscled thigh. Then he slips his fingers inside the waistband of the briefs, extends it, and pulls the fabric down to reveal a gorgeous pale dick inside a nest of ginger curls. His mouth waters. He’s going to own that.

Hux jackknifes, arms flying around Ren’s head as he inhales that beautiful dick all the way down his throat. 

“Fuck.” 

This time it sounds broken, the single vowel stretched out on a shuddering breath.

Ren hums around the thick girth in his throat and swallows once before he slowly sucks his way back up to the spongy tip. Long cool fingers curl around the back of his neck and when they jerk him down, he goes willingly.

From the noises Hux makes, Ren is pretty sure he could ask for anything right now and Hux would willingly give it just to keep the mouth wrapped around his dick.

So he asks by pushing his middle and ring finger against Hux’s lips and groans when he feels warm breath before wet, hot suction pulls both of them down to the last knuckle and a slick, agile tongue licks around and between them. 

When he pulls his fingers back and brushes them against the tight skin behind Hux’s balls, he feels the hand on the back of his neck clench. Hux groans and bucks up under him, and Ren’s middle finger slides in up to the second knuckle. 

Hux’s ass is tight and burning hot, making Ren’s dick lurch for attention. He unclamps his other hand from the thigh he’s been holding down, slides it down his gaping fly, and adjusts himself through his boxers. 

He takes it slow and allows himself to get messy so there’s plenty of drool to ease the way. When he looks up with just the tip of Hux’s dick in his mouth and his tongue pushing into the sensitive spot just below, he crooks his fingers and puts pressure on the right spot.

Hux howls.

Ren rides the wild buck of his hips and swallows that beautiful dick back down his throat with a low moan. He gets off on watching his partners come undone, so he’s gotten pretty good at pushing them to it. 

He waits for the tell-tale quiver of relaxing muscles and slowly releases the softening dick from between his lips. 

Hux looks delirious and doesn’t move a muscle to help when Ren removes his boots and pulls the rest of his clothes off his body. Completely naked and disheveled is a damn good look on the man. Ren would take a picture on his cell phone if he wasn’t afraid Hux would kill him. 

His dick is ready to explode, so he doesn’t bother fighting with his boots. He just shoves down his pants and boxers as far as they will go and reaches for the condoms. 

The foil package opens pretty easily now the spit on his fingers has dried off, and he checks the direction and pinches the little bubble at the top before he rolls it on. 

The tight, oppressive fit takes the edge off a bit, but then a strong, cool hand circles around his dick and squeezes once, and he’s right back where he started.

When he opens his eyes, Hux is staring at him with eyes still glassy from his orgasm and his mouth hanging open, lips wet, like he’s trying to decide whether he should return the blowjob. 

“Face or back?” Ren manages to grunt the words between thrusts into the tight circle of fingers. 

Hux fucking hesitates. 

Ren doesn’t have time for that. He grabs the sturdy hips between his hands and has to strain to flip the other man onto his belly. That seems to get Hux out of his stupor because he buries his face in his arms and pushes his ass up.

Ren can’t resist. He gives the firm cheek a stinging smack, reveling in Hux’s yelp and the sight of his handprint glowing red on the pale skin. 

Then he drapes himself over the strong back and pushes his cock home before Hux can change his mind and throw him off. 

“Fuck.” 

This time it’s both of them. 

Ren’s eyes have rolled back into his head and he might not get them open again because it feels too fucking good. The lube on the condom is just enough to let him slide in at a glacial pace and feel every inch of Hux’s ass squeeze around his dick like a tight, hot glove. 

He’s not sure which one of them is trembling, maybe they both are. Ren slides one hand along the bunched muscles of Hux’s arm until he can link their fingers.

“Relax,” he growls. “You’re killing me.” 

Hux shakes his head and rasps, “Move.” 

Still giving orders. Ren wheezes out a laugh, even though he barely has air to breathe, but he obeys. They both groan as Ren pulls out and slowly pushes back in. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ren,” Hux barks, nearly throwing him off as he pushes his ass back hard. “Quit stalling and move!” 

That’s it. If Hux wants it, he can have it. Ren lets go of his hand, rears up, grips the wiggling hips in front of him with both hands, and yanks Hux into his next thrust. 

He barely hears the yelp because the whole universe is centered on the sensation of tight, hot, slick suction around his dick and the rising pressure low in his belly and at the base of his spine building up for a spectacular release. 

Ren fucks like he carries out orders: fast, ruthless, and right on the mark.

When he comes, it’s like a backdraft, an explosion so hot it burns his skin and sucks all the oxygen out of his lungs, leaving him sweaty, exhausted, and pressed to the ground, shivering with adrenaline.

Except his forehead is pressed between the cool, slick shoulders of Armitage Hux who’s struggling to take deep breaths under Ren’s weight. 

“Sorry,” he mutters as he pushes himself off Hux, limbs quivering like jelly.

“Hm,” is all he gets in response. 

Ren slumps down on his ass next to him, pulls off the condom and ties a knot in it. Looking around for a trash can, he only finds the bucket that Hux had brought from the station in the back corner of the trunk. He shrugs and dumps the used rubber in there before he lays back next to Hux.

For the first time he notices how rough the felt under his skin is. 

“Shit, you’re going to have such a bad case of carpet burn.” 

“Don’t care,” Hux grumbles and rolls over onto his back. “Got 48 hours to get over it.” 

The skin on his forearms and shins is bright red.

“Fuck,” Ren gasps. 

Hux chuckles. “Not right now, but if you give me a few minutes…” 

The offer hangs in the air between them. Ren’s not sure what it means. Hux is still his supervisor and he’s still not sure the man even knows how to have a relationship that is not based on hierarchy. 

“Maybe after I get some aloe on those burns.” 

Hux rolls his eyes and makes an agreeable noise in his throat. Then he groans and covers his face with one hand. 

“Shit,” he says dejectedly, “we’re going to be that station, aren’t we?” 

“What station?” 

Ren’s confused and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing profanity come out of Hux’s mouth. Hux shifts his fingers, one bright blue eye peeking out between them. 

“The one where everyone’s hooked up with a co-worker.” 

“Nah,” Ren says, shaking his head. “Captain Phasma?”

Hux honest to goodness giggles and the muscles in his stomach contract in a way that makes Ren want to lick them. 

“Caught her in our office with Mitaka last week.”

“No way.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

He cannot imagine their prim and proper station captain having sex with anyone, least of all doe-eyed little Dopheld Mitaka. 

“Shit,” Ren says and starts laughing. “Did you give them shit about messing up your stuff?” 

Hux stopped giggling and scowled. “She is still my superior.” 

“Right.” Ren sighs. 

They sit in silence for a while and Ren has a hard time resisting the urge to reach out and touch Hux. Just seeing him lying there, naked and relaxed, less than an arm’s length away is completely surreal.

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters the question almost hoping Hux doesn’t hear him. 

“Ask.” 

“Why did you hesitate?” He realizes he might need to be more specific. “When I asked which way you wanted it.” 

Hux smirks and turns his head to look him in the eyes. “You know when you go for ice cream, and then you’re at the counter and you can’t decide on a flavor?” 

Ren’s mouth drops open with a knowing “ah” before he admits, “I usually pick three or four.” 

“You would.” 

Hux sizes him up with a glance, and he worries if he should be sucking in his stomach or pretend to be smaller than he is, not that it’d do any good. Built like a brick shit-house his gramps used to say.

“I want to take you home tonight.” 

The invitation comes out of nowhere. Ren draws a sharp breath and considers the consequences.

“What about Poe and Finn?” 

Hux sneers. “They can catch an Uber.” 

He’s not sure there are any excuses left to give. Hux is looking at him with that penetrating stare that makes lesser men admit their stupid pranks and gets them stuck with dish duty for months on end. 

“Why are you hesitating?” 

Ren swallows. “You’re still my superior.” 

Hux shakes his head. “Not outside the station, and there are regulations to help avoid conflict of interest at work.” 

Ren almost chokes on a laugh. “You’ve thought about this.” 

“More than is healthy over the past few weeks.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay, take me home.” Ren pauses as he realizes something. “But first we gotta go back to the station and lock my baby in the garage.”

Hux grimaces. “You really call it that?”

“Watch it,” Ren growls, “she’s my one true love, and I don’t let anyone talk smack about her.” 

Hux rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders and it’s the most arrogant but oddly still appealing move Ren has seen him make tonight. 

“Yeah, but does she fuck you like I do?” 

Ren opens his mouth to respond but then Hux stretches, and it highlights every muscle in his body, and Ren forgets what he was going to say. 

“Just, put some clothes on, please.” He doesn’t mean to sound so feeble, so he quickly follows it up with, “Unless you want to risk adding rug burn on your ass.” 

Ren has never seen a man pull his pants up so fast, and he works at a fire station.


End file.
